The Best Times Of My Life Overbite's Tale
by Master Fwiffo
Summary: Pirates of the Iacon Skies 08 - An old spacer relates three stories - of a Regulan Metal Monger, his brush with death, and of the dearest friend he ever lost.


TFPirates

Overbites Tale

Copyright 2008, masterfwiffo. All rights reserved.

In the galley of the Sword of the Fallen, one seat in particular is reserved for a permanent resident. This seat is set apart in the corner, next to one of the larger windows. Out that window, you can see the sails of the Sword of the Fallen when they are fully extended, glistening gold in the stellar winds.

The resident of this seat has been on the Sword of the Fallen nearly as long as most of the other crew, and is far older than all of them. He goes by the name Overbite, and his past is no mystery to anyone who will listen for a klick.

On this particular cycle, Overbite was, as usual, sitting in his chair, gazing out at the glimmering solar sails. The galley was slow, as it always was. Jackpot, Snowcat and Wheeljack were playing a quiet game of Sharkticon, and Mirage was watching them, petting a very contented looking Doomlock at his side. Sharkticon sat near the end of the bar, contemplating at a half-empty glass of energon. The rest of the crew was dispersed throughout the ship, busy with their various duties and tasks. But near his window seat Overbite's prime audience sat - three of the resident four Minicons.

While Oceanglide continued to insist that he was a valuable member of the crew, despite all evidence to the contrary, Stormcloud and Waterlog, both more peaceable beings, had settled contentedly into their role as cabin-hands, along with the larger, but less mature Shortround. The third minicon present was of course, Windsheer, Wheeljack's young partner. She and the personable Waterlog had taken a liking to each other, and all three of the minicons were waiting more-or-less patently for the late-cycle ritual which always took place here.

It was inevitable, and most of the crew had learned to either avoid the galley entirely, or live with what was about to happen. The three minicons - and occasionally Shortround, when he could escape from Arc's oppressive command in the engine room, were the only crewmen who actively sought out this time, for, like the wisest of the crew, they knew the value of a good storyteller.

Overbite's optics darkened for a long moment, and he gave a little sigh, signaling the start of the ritual. Sharkticon looked up, and quickly exited the room. Everyone else, however turned to attention - especially the three minicons, who gathered around as they always did for Overbite's stories. The tired old mech's eyes were dark for a long time, before he spoke.

"Have I ever told you about the Regulan Metal Monger?" He said slowly.

The truth was that he had, several times. But it was also considered one of his best stories, so a small fib was in order.

"Well then, let me see...

Yes, I do believe that was during the time I served as a Quintesson guard. Yes, I served under the Quints. Not a bad job, all things considered. Except, of course, the time I served on Regulus VII.

Now, the thing you must know about Regulus VII, is that it is a very strange planet. We, of course, have difficulty envisioning organic life, so different it is to our own, and of course, organics feel the same way. But we mechanicals have one distinct advantage - we never evolved from animalistic origins. No, we came as we were, as Primus made us. Or at least, that's what everyone thought, as no true mechanical animal had ever been found. Until Regulus VII.

As I've told before, I come from a world filled with biological creatures and data. It's like an exotic zoo, with species from across the Universe. It's where I got my alt mode. So I know a thing or two about zoos. And Regulus VII, it's like one big zoo - except every animal is a machine.

It's a strange thing, dealing with mechanical beings who can't comprehend what you do. So very strange dealing with animate, but unintelligent beasts. But it has its own strange beauty. And don't let anyone tell you that Regulus is not pretty - for it certainly is. But it's also dangerous.

I was with the Quints' first colony to Regulus. At the time, everybody wanted Energon, and Regulus was one of the richest deposits. So, that's why we went. But we didn't know what Regulus was like.

I remember that day well. We'd barely been there a couple cycles - only just got the shelters set up. There were, oh, 60 of us, plus the Quints in charge of the operation. It was a nice day, red sun in the green sky - yes, the sky is green, don't interrupt me - red sun setting in the horizon... Good old friend and I were standing on the cliff, watching the Energon ocean.

Kraz - he was a friend of mine, meanest Shaldin you ever met. A Shaldin's a lizard thing - are you going to keep asking questions or let me tell the story? I thought so. Ahem. Kraz was sitting there, and he's telling me about his home, and I'm telling him about mine. Ah, those were the best times of my life, good buddies, talking about the joys of life...

Then the ground starts a-shaking like nobodies business, and Kraz and I, of course we freak out. We run back to the base, and damned if there one is. One what? I'm getting to that, sit down. It was a real-life Regulan Metal Monger.

And I can't describe how big this thing is. I mean, it was big. No, bigger than that. Bigger... bigger... Look, I'm talking star-fighters for earrings, it was BIG.

What's it look like? Well, imagine a wall of steel with four legs. Got it? Good. Now imagine that wall of steel had tusks bigger than our ship. That's what it looked like.

So, this thing charges right into the middle of our base. 'Course, by the time it got to the middle, you couldn't very well call it a base anymore. And when it roared, my goodness, the force of it knocked over our ship!

So there we are, 60 of us against one Regulan Metal Monger, and trust me, we were outnumbered. So 60 of us scatter around the thing, firing lasers, throwing rocks, and more typically, running like Unicron himself was after us. Who could blame 'em? This thing's going crazy, and hitting anything that moves, all 60 of us. And the Quints are yelling at us to stop this thing, and meanwhile rockets are bouncing off its back without it even noticing.

I think it's about this time that Kraz realizes we're all going to die. So Kraz, Primus bless him, comes up with a brilliant idea, that no sane person would ever attempt. Fortunately, Kraz is not very sane.

You see, the Regulan Metal Monger has one eye. One big, nasty, ugly eye that looks like it's glaring at you all the time. Its right smack dab in the middle of it's head. So Kraz grabs himself a big pole, and does something stupid.

He runs up to the Metal Monger and jumps on his leg! Now, Kraz, who's not much shorter than me, barely reaches this thing's toe. But Kraz, idiot that he is, starts climbing up the thing! I don't know how he managed it, with that thing bucking around and smashing everything, but with Primus as my witness, he did. So, he starts working his way up, and gets to the thing's tusks. And here, his brilliant plan begins to fall apart - because when he grabs onto the tusk, the monster starts thrashing around. Now, you have to understand, when this thing thrashes around, it creates new fault lines in the ground.

Now poor Kraz is holding on for dear life, and I think to myself, I think, "I've got to do something or Kraz is going to bite it!" So I do something even more stupid. I grab my sword and charge, and stick the thing right in between its toes.

You thought it was scary before, you shoulda seen it when that happened. The only thing scarier than an angry Metal Monger is a Metal Monger trying to get something out of its toe.

Somehow, in the middle of all this, Kraz manages to get himself on its tusk, and run toward its big head. He later told me he could see his reflection in the thing's big fiberglass eyeball, as he plunged his pole straight into it. The Metal Monger gives this huge yell, and rears up on its hind legs - and that was quite a feat, let me tell you - and sends Kraz flying. It's a miracle he survived at all. Granted, we had to replace his legs and half his spinal cord, but let me tell you, there ain't nobody else in the galaxy who could say they brought down a Metal Monger single handedly. We salvaged its body, and there was enough there to build an entire new space ship!

Unfortunately, we had to abandon the planet, because 3 more of that thing's brothers showed up, and if you thought one Metal Monger was bad, you haven't seen three angry ones! Even the Quints had to admit it wasn't worth it, so we packed up and left.

Kraz however, despite his injuries, lived to a ripe old age. He's gone now... organics do age, tragedy though it is. I got to see him just before he went, and he passed on something to me. In my quarters, you might see a sword. Well that sword, friends, is forged from the very tip of the Metal Monger's tusk. Kraz kept it his whole life, and then passed it onto me, as proof of what he did. So let me tell you, whenever you think you're up against something you can't beat, remember crazy Kraz, and the Regulan Metal Monger."

Content with his story, the old bot leaned back, signaling the end of the nightly ritual. Respectfully, the group around him began to disperse. During his story, several others had joined - Cannonball, ducking in from the bridge, Thunderblast, checking in on Snowcat, and Shortround, escaping Arc to join near the end of the tale. It had been a slow day on the ship, so the crew was more than pleased to join the audience of the old storyteller. But alas, the story was now ended.

At least, it appeared that way until Overbite spoke suddenly, catching everyone's attention again. "Captain," He said, "What Stardate is it?"

Mirage thought for a moment, cocking his head. "I'm not sure." He admitted.

"Cycle 0." Shortround supplied, eager to be of service.

"As I thought." Overbite said with a nod. "It was on this same stardate, over two hundred deca-cycles ago, that I died."

That held the audience's attention. While the old spacer had faced death many a time, never before had he used those words before. Could it be, a new story? Everyone gathered in to listen.

Overbite closed his optics again, and began slowly. "I do not tell this story often, for its memory brings me pain. But it is something I feel you all should know.

Every Cybertronian has a spark, a life force that keeps them going. When the spark fades, the life is gone. Sparks are something we can never fully understand. Autobots, Quints, Lithonians, all of them have studied it intently, and some say it is nothing more than a simple energy signature, and that is it. When it's gone, you just cease to exist. But I can tell you, that is not true - there is far more than that. I know.

I was with the Autobots at the time. Yes, the Autobots. This was before I joined with the Quintessons... or was it? Who can say. When you get to be my age, time all blends together...

Anyway, I was with the Autobots. This was right before the start of the War, I think. Tensions were high, and small fights were breaking out on border colonies, like the one I was stationed at. Let's see, that was Antigus Prime, I believe. Not the prettiest planet in the galaxy, dull, a bit rocky. But all in all, it was a cushy job.

It was on this date, all those cycles ago, I was sitting on the main guardhouse, overlooking a great canyon. I was leaning back against it, just watching the clouds move lazily across the sky, thinking to myself, 'these are the best times of my life." Thoughts of war could not be farther away.

I still don't know quite what happened, how it began. All I knew is that there was some shouting, and then things started exploding.

I do what I can to survive, these days. I'm here because there is fight in my spark, and I must let it out. By the time I got to that battlefield, I had faced Shriekbats, Petrorabbits, a Metal Monger, beasts of all sorts, bounty hunters, Pirates, and angry Quintessons. I had been in brutal hand-to-hand fights to the death, danced among the stars with mercenaries, and fought off a hundred sharkticons, even fought in a couple small scale wars, but this was the first time I had ever seen a massacre. In all of what I've faced, this memory remains as the most horrific of them all.

I missed the first attack. At first, we thought they were Decepticons - but no. No Decepticon I've ever met had ever shown anything like these Cybertronians. Barbarians they were, screaming in a strange, foreign language, wearing blood red symbols upon their arms in a strange pattern like a horned sun. They were huge, wielding great weapons forged of fire and energon. Vicious, brutal... evil. They tore straight into our men, cleaving them in half with their swords, tearing through all of them. The Autobots never had a chance. The air itself was filled with their drying screams - Primus, I still remember it now. I grabbed what weapons I could, and fought back. But they were too strong. I might have felled one of them, I'll never know for certain, but then I felt this piercing pain.

It's strange, seeing a spear poking through your own chest. It's strange, knowing that you are dying. But as the carnage continued around me, I was prepared for it. I wanted just to die, just to escape the horror around me.

And then... there was no pain. No screams of terror, no sounds of combat, nothing. I was free... floating in a field of stars. It was as if I could see the entire universe around me. Not just what you can see out the window here, but all of it. Everything, I could see it all better than I ever believed. And one star, in the center, it was brighter than all the rest. It was calling to me, wanting me to come to it. To come home...

Then something happened. I don't know, but I didn't want to go there anymore. For some reason, I knew I needed to come back. I don't know why I felt that, but I knew there was something yet I needed to do. And so I did.

I awoke in the medical facility. The doctor was amazed to see me come back. According to his charts, my spark had been extinguished for half a cycle. They had dragged me off the field after the massacre had ended. All the barbarians had been killed by reinforcements, and they were trying to save as many as they could. I was a lost cause, but still they fought for a cycle trying to keep my spark alive. Yet, to me, it had been but a brief time, and I felt alive, more real than I ever had before. He couldn't understand it. Neither could I, fully.

But I know that for a brief time, I was dead. And I know that I came back, for something. I may never know what that something is, until I go back there. I may have already finished it. All I know is let no one tell you that this is it. There is something more. Something greater..."

Overbite trailed off into silence. His audience, enthralled with his story, waited for more, but none came. The old bot had gone into a rest cycle. Slow mumbles spread throughout the gathered as they dispersed, some quietly talking among themselves whether the old coot was a prophet- or if he had finally lost it. The stirring continued as one by one, the entire audience left the room, quietly walking out to the rest of their evening. The ritual had ended fully now, and the spell the old bot cast was broken.

Before long, there were but three remaining in the room - the storyteller, his Captain, and the captain's pet.

"That was quite a story." Mirage said quietly as he stroked Doomlock's head, knowing full well that Overbite was still awake.

Overbite opened one optic, and lazily looked over at him. "I don't think you liked it." He said quietly.

"No, I liked it." Mirage countered. "It was a great story of a dream. But only that. A dream."

Overbite was silent for a moment. "There is no afterlife for you, Captain?"

"Afraid not, Overbite." Mirage answered. "This is all there is. That's why I do what I do. If I didn't, there would be no point to living."

Overbite's optics were closed again. "Captain, let me tell you one more story. I once thought as you did. Even after my death, I never understood the meaning of what I had seen. Until much later.

I squandered my resurrection. After I left the Autobots for better money, I did a number of jobs - as an assassin, a Decepticon, a trader, and a starfighter escort. Combat, it's all I know. It's why I'm here now. These days, I do it to keep me sustained, but back then, it was different. I did whatever I would for money, for wealth, for nothing else. I foolishly believed it was all that mattered.

It was during my stint as a Starfighter escort, I believe. A long time after my death it was. I had just finished a job, and was at the planet Veraos, looking for another job. The market was dry, due to the Civl War - both sides looking for skilled pilots, so finding a job was no problem. But I turned down every offer I found. I can't say why I did - none of them felt right. Perhaps my spark was guiding me, knowing what happened later.

I was wandering the streets of Veraos, looking for something, but I didn't know what. Aimlessly I searched - and then literally, I tripped over her.

She was a Lithonian, young for them, lithe and skinny, a pale color. She was sitting in a rut, not because she had a choice, but because that's where she lived. Later I learned her tale - an outcast since her childhood, she had been living on the streets an orphan, unwanted, poor, with no talent, no means of survival. Her name was Serenade.

When I saw her, I was wracked with a sudden pain. How could I let her suffer while I lived so well. For reasons I'll never understand, I gave her as many energon chips as I could spare. She thanked me, and I continued about my way.

But for that Cycle and the next, I could not remove her face from my mind. Every time my optics dimmed, I saw her again, and again. I went and removed some more money from my savings, and tracked her down again. It was all I knew to do - I gave her more, so that she would not starve. This time I stayed and talked to her. Despite her condition, she had a spirit, a hope, something I could not describe. I left again.

But still she haunted me. When I returned the third time, I did something I had never done before. I offered her what meager dwellings I had aboard my ship. She was shocked, but accepted my offer.

It was strange, living with her those few stellar cycles. During that time, I experienced something I never quite had before. I was happy. Joyful even. She brought joy and happiness into my life, and I did my best to return it. I can say with all truth that these were the best times of my life.

I wish my story ended there, with us happy together, living our easy life. But it was not to be. The years of poverty and starvation had taken their toll on the organic half of her cybernetic makeup. She had contracted a degenerative disease, one that slowly rotted away at her organic interior. We didn't have the faintest idea she had it until she collapsed one day.

It was the most frightening moment of my life. I rushed her to what doctors I could find on the planet. None of them specialized in Lithonian biology, none of them could help her. In a matter of cycles, she wasted away, in front of my very optics.

I cannot relate her last words to me. They hurt too much. I watched her die in front of me. I have never been a stranger to death, but this remains the only death that I understood. That hurt. I had lost the only thing I ever truly cared for.

But with her dying breath, something happened. Through the pain of her loss and my grief, a strange sense of comforting came too. Like her arms were wrapped around me in one final hug, telling me soothingly that it was all right. She was gone, but it is not the end of the story.

It was then I understood. I understood what I saw when I died. I understood why I came back. And I understood one last thing - that it was not over. That someday, when I too leave this plain, I will see her again. I will be happy again."

Captain Mirage watched him in silence, unmoving, as his optics dimmed again. "That is why I believe as I do, Captain," He said slowly, his voice scratching, "It keeps me going."

Captain Mirage nodded slowly. "I think I understand you a bit better, old friend."

Overbite didn't answer. He had lapsed into his rest period, for real this time. Mirage watched his unmoving form for a nano longer. Then he stood, respectfully leading Doomlock out of the room and leaving the spacer to his rest. He paused at the door and looked back at him, the old storyteller in his chair, a blank look on his face as the interstellar wind filled the golden sails behind him. Then for the briefest of moments, Mirage shuddered involuntarily, as if he could feel another presence in the room. He shook his head to clear it. Superstition, that was all. He left.

A faint smile crossed Overbite's face. He was alone in the room. But he was never alone in his spark.

--


End file.
